Along Came Jo
by AlexForrest5
Summary: He thought his wounds would never heal, until she came back into his life (post-Hell Dean, alternate take). Dean's POV. WARNING: mild sexual content. A story from a few years ago that I'm now uploading here. Hope you enjoy my work - feedback is super-appreciated, including constructive criticism.


It's been a few months since he came back, or so the calendar tells him, because he hasn't really paid attention to time lately. His life is obviously divided into two periods, the 28 years before the hellhounds dragged him into the pit, and those months since he returned. It's not like the first part was all smiles and roses, quite the contrary, but at least he actually felt alive back then. Not so much now.

What he experienced down there is always going to stay with him, he knows that. Memories of meat hooks and pain and horror haunt him wherever he goes, and if he sleeps at night, it's usually to have nightmares of same. It feels like he's in a constant state of looking over his shoulder, fearing they might come back and take him back to that place – but even if he gets an assurance that they don't, he's never truly going to leave Hell.

Most of the time, he pointlessly watches TV, or even settles for staring at the walls of their current motel room. He and Sam are still traveling, still driving into a new town every week or so, but in truth it's merely out of habit – they haven't hunted a thing since he came back. Sam's tried talking to him about it. Sam told him he understands (which couldn't be further from the truth), that of course Dean couldn't immediately go back to risking his life in a world that took everything away from him and led him to torment beyond imagination down there. Sam assured his big brother that he could take as much time as he needed before going back to hunting.

The truth is that he hasn't started hunting again not because of some profound reason. Not because he's bitter or angry or convinced that he's more than paid his dues, though he supposes those are true. He just doesn't have the strength anymore, and even the knowledge that Lilith – the reason he went to Hell and the reason his brother remains in danger – is still out there does nothing to motivate him. He doesn't even have the strength to correct Sam on that count. In the past, after their father died or after he made the deal, Sam would try to get Dean to open up, try to have one of those emotional conversations, only for Dean to start shouting at him. Now, Dean doesn't even shout during such conversations, he just remains silent while doing his best to pretend that he's taking Sam's words in. He knows that probably worries Sam more than anything, but he can't help it.

Bobby's tried to help, too. He wanted the boys to come stay at his house, at least for a while. It was stupid to keep driving from place to place when they weren't even hunting, he argued. He also said that post-Hell Dean needs some semblance of an actual home if he's ever going to recover. Dean disagrees; he hasn't had a home for years, and he doesn't need one now, especially as he _isn't_ going to recover, ever. He hasn't explained this to Sam or Bobby, either, just flatly turned down the offer and that was it.

He's vaguely aware of the downward spiral he's entered, of Bobby and Sam's increasing desperation at their complete inability to pull him out of it, but he can't find it within himself to do something about it. When he made the deal, he knew he was condemning himself to Hell forever. But it wasn't until now, when he was actually out of Hell, that he realized the true consequences of that decision.

* * *

Then, one day, there's a knock on their motel room's door. Sam gets it, and Dean's confused when his ears pick up on an all-too-familiar voice – one he hasn't heard in a long time, but can still recognize in a heartbeat. His eyes travel over to the door, and sure enough, it's Jo Harvelle. She greets them affably enough, though he thinks he can detect some wariness in the way she looks at Sam – hardly something she can be blamed for, given the events of their last meeting. Still too thrown by her arrival, Dean doesn't say much and settles for listening as she sinks into a chair and briefly explains what she's been doing for the past two years. He's stunned to realize he hasn't spoken to her, or even about her, for that long.

Then she wonders what _they've_ been doing, and Dean goes back to studying the wall, leaving the awkward task to Sam. He can hear her sharp intake of breath when Sam explains that Dean made a deal to save him and did, indeed, go to Hell. Knowing she wants him to, he meets her eyes for a moment, and though the look in them speaks volumes she remains silent. For that, he's immensely grateful.

Jo announces that since they haven't seen each other in so long, she's sticking around for a while. It's clear that wasn't the original plan, that she decided upon it after hearing what happened, but he doesn't argue – partially because breaking that girl's resolve is no mean feat, but mostly because he finds that doesn't mind the idea of her staying. Sam seems perfectly content with having some company as well, and so she stays, renting a room close to theirs.

The almost immediate result is that they start hunting again. He didn't think he would, ever, but Jo's become a regular hunter since they last saw her and she has no intention to idly sit by just because she's with them. After learning they haven't been out hunting recently, she of course assures them that they don't have to tag along, but he isn't having any of that; if she's going on a hunt, he'll be there to watch her back. So the three of them go, and at first, he's horrified by how out of practice he is, nearly getting himself killed. Sam and Jo end up watching _his_ back the first few times. But then, it starts coming back to him, and several weeks later it's like he never stopped. Hunting's like riding a bicycle, apparently. And at last, he stops meandering through his life, the hunting routine he and Sam used to have quickly returning. The only difference is Jo's with them – with him - now, and he's amazed when he realizes how much has changed since she showed up.

At first it's just talking. They sit in one of their motel rooms, or in the Impala, or in a diner, and she's telling him all about their two years apart from her perspective. She shares various stories, like when she got a nasty bite from a Chicago vampire, or when she spilled holy water all over herself during a stakeout in Boston. She tells him how her mother reluctantly came to accept her being a hunter, not that she became any less protective than before. He rarely responds with stories of his own, doesn't even comment much on hers, but they're both okay with that. There's something calming about listening to her, something he hasn't felt in a long time, and he gladly lets her voice wash over him.

Then it's looks. Since he came back, he's been avoiding looking Sam or Bobby in the eye for more than a few seconds at a time. There was something difficult about it, as though meeting each other's eyes for too long brought down the heaviness of the situation upon them. But he finds he has no problem holding Jo's gaze for long stretches of time – more than that, he finds unexpected comfort there. So they spend quiet moments just looking at each other, and for some reason, it feels good.

Then it's touches. He easily leans into her touch when it's meant merely to stitch up a wound caused by the latest monster, and she hesitantly takes that as a cue to caress the length of his arm, then his face. She sends shivers up his spine whenever she does that, the good kind, and he always heaves a sigh when they're interrupted by Sam, who arrives with food or information on the current hunt with a rather knowing gleam in his eye.

Then it's kisses. They have to be careful to avoid Sam now, as Dean can't stand the thought of the leering he'd surely receive if his brother ever caught them at it. The first time, there's awkwardness and uncertainty as their lips meet each other, but soon it becomes natural and so much better than the kisses he's had with anyone else (and he's had quite a few, after all). They kiss and it always succeeds in creating the momentary illusion that it's just the two of them here, no monsters or demons or evils whatsoever. Just the two of them.

Then it's everything. Dean excuses himself from his and Sam's motel room without an explanation, carefully avoiding his brother's teasing grin that clarifies one isn't needed, and retires to Jo's for the night. They take their time getting there, and as she's about to pull his shirt off over his head he suddenly protests, not wanting her to see those horrible, hellhound-inflicted scars. She whispers that she doesn't care, but then it doesn't really matter because the clothes come off and he sees the scars have faded considerably over time. He realizes he hasn't looked at his own body much since coming back. Her lips ghost over his skin, exercising some sort of healing effect on every inch they kiss as the two of them ease back onto the bed, and then they make love. And for the duration of that blissful night, he forgets he was ever in Hell. It's all about what he's feeling right now and how he never wants that feeling to end.

A while later, it's over, and she's the first to fall asleep. His arm is gently draped around her, and her locks of blonde hair brush pleasantly against his bare chest. He stares calmly at the darkened room, and slowly, the bliss fades away and the memories of meat hooks and pain and horror return. He knows, as he has ever since coming back, that they'll never be gone; they'll always lurk in the corner of his mind, ready to haunt either his waking moments or his nightmares. But now, it's different. For the first time, it feels like he's left Hell behind – he's finally back.

Andthat's enough.

End


End file.
